All That's Left
by nidhogg
Summary: A young witch, given the job of cleaning up Godric's Hollow after the death of the Potters, finds it hard to fathom the mind of their killer.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Occasional sly quotes from the song "Shiny Happy People" belong to REM; the quote below belongs to Isobelle Carmody; and the wonderful Potterverse belongs, of course, to the Goddess JKR.

"_Laughter…is the answer humanity _

_has evolved to cope with _

_the gift [of death" _

– _Isobelle Carmody, Green Monkey Dreams_

Chapter 1: Wake Up Call

"CHRIS!"

The word entered Christine's head with the force of a small earthquake. Once there, the word proceeded to occupy itself by bouncing of the walls of her cranium like a seven-year-old on helium. Her ears rang and her head felt like there was an axe thudding into it at regular intervals.

She rolled over, forgetting in her pain that she was already lying precariously on the edge of her bed. Falling with a soft 'flump' onto the floor, she nearly cried out as her head throbbed again.

Hurried footsteps resonated against the wooden floor as her partner entered the room.

"Christina! We need to be at the Ministry by nine, and it's five-to now!"

Chris groaned and mumbled something indistinct about 'sleep' and 'hangover'. Reg Cattermole, her long-suffering partner, raised his eyes to the heavens and dragged Chris off the floor, ignoring her protestations and profanities.

"Here," he said, having plopped her rather unceremoniously in a chair and pushed a bottle into her hands, "Drink this. I guessed you'd need Hang-Gone after last night. And some bloke on the way home was selling it cheap."

The potion worked quickly. Chris felt her headache fade to a twinge, and then to nothing. Her stomach settled as her head cleared, but she still felt tired. She decided to milk it.

"Can't they give us a day off? For Merlin's sake, You-Know-Who just died!"

"Exactly! He died, and we have to clean up the mess!" Reg sighed; his voice, which had risen alarmingly, returned to its normal gentle tone. "We can't stop now, Chris. There's always going to be work to do. Never mind what the Minister says, I don't believe for a minute that You-Know-Who's gone for good. No child could have done this."

Chris stood up unsteadily, leaning on Reg, and kissed him softly.

"You worry too much, honey. You're not the only one they're counting on – relax for once."

Reg leaned into the kiss and felt his hand, seemingly of its own accord, slip down to rest on the curve of her bottom and his other lock around her neck, pulling her to him. It seemed to him that the curves of her body fit neatly into his own. He liked that. He liked neatness.

Ten minutes later they Flooed into one of the Ministry's many fireplaces; their hair was a little ruffled and their clothes a little askew, but both were wearing a grin the size of a banana.

Their elated expressions did not look out of place in the normally sombre entrance hall. Many were waving and calling to friends as they went about their business – almost unheard of in recent years – and the overall ambience was one of peace and joy. Chris didn't think it had felt anything like this since, well, since before You-Know-Who had come to power.

It was most certainly a nice change, she thought, as she waved and smiled at a person she didn't think she'd ever met before. Not having to fear for your life every time you so much as stepped outside; that was something.

She noticed with a smile that many other witches and wizards appeared to be in a similar state to her post-inebriation. Some were clutching their heads, wincing at the noise; some were bleary-eyed and tousle-haired; and some just looked plain terrible. The wizarding world had not had an excuse to party for so long that it had quite lost its touch, she surmised.

The crowds of people were significantly smaller today. Many seemed to have followed her original idea of staying home – a fact she did not hesitate to point out to Reg – and so the walk to the office took a shorter time than usual. Elbowing their way through all the shiny happy people, the two made their way into the elevator and, after dodging owl droppings (the Powers That Be had decided that owls were a fantastic idea for an interdepartmental memo system), arrived in a dimly-lit room. Their colleagues were gathered around the head of department, one Mister Humphrey Dretters. None of them bore looks remotely similar to the ones she had seen in the entrance hall. In fact, they looked positively dismal.

Perhaps there was work to be done after all.

A/N: Posted, at last! Whew. This fic's gonna be a loooong one, I can tell, so stay tuned for updates. But not too tuned. I'm a slow writer.

Anyway, lots of love,

anonnymouse.


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